


Sense

by greengrapegaze



Series: Steps to a Bittersweet Symphony [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adorable, Adorable Sherlock, Affection, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy, Happy Ending, Happy John, Happy Sherlock, Holding Hands, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, No Sex, No Smut, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining, Pining John, Pining Sherlock, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greengrapegaze/pseuds/greengrapegaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i><b>Sense</b></i><br/><b>sens</b><br/>verb<br/>1. perceive by a sense or senses.<br/>"<i>You'll do anything for him.</i>"<br/>"<i>What might we deduce about his heart?</i>"<br/>"<i>Somebody loves you.</i>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Chapter Not Meant to Exist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DestinedForJohnlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinedForJohnlock/gifts).



bloop bleep blop


	2. Hard to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or shut my eyes—could **lose myself** in teenage lies.  
>  If I fell in love a thousand times...  
> 

_**Maybe if I'd skim the stone—** _

The best time to think, in the doctor's opinion, would always be after the second pint and during a walk home past midnight. With the night casting a minor chill over his heavy shoulders, John Watson was entirely beside himself with a tall predicament, and quite literally at that. Realizing that one was in love with their madman of a flatmate was likely not the best way to start the week. Of course, it really hadn't been his choice, had it? He'd been drawn to the detective the moment he'd set sight on his gorgeous face. Hooked with just one question of " _Afghanistan or Iraq?_ He was daft-so _damned_ idiotic-to allow himself the chance to fall. He should have known better, should have prepared and never allowed himself the momentum to crash. 

The damaged and forgettable be damned; love was _ruthless_ **and** _blind_ to all its victims.

And that's what he was, wasn't he? Had been for quite some time. Before meeting Sherlock, he was just a wisp of a person. A shell waiting to be broken down and recycled for flowers and maggots to grow stronger with. Morbid a thought, but it was one he had encountered on the worst of days. Or anytime he removed his clothing whenever getting ready for the next day. Everyday the bathroom mirror served as a stale and constant reminder of all that had been done to his body, just as much as it was also a notice to how much better he was becoming.

_**Walk a different way back home—** _

Getting home wasn't a struggle, nor was wading through the fog of a buzz and the scent of formaldehyde from the detective's latest experiment. Shoes were slipped off, a jumper tossed from overhead, and trousers kicked to the side before the doctor settled down. He expected to fall asleep quickly, or at least doze and let the weight of his thoughts slip away to simple things; grocers list, cases needing to be typed up, even things to putter about and clean. What he didn't expect was the desire to pinpoint the exact moment he had fallen in love with the detective. It swirled within his mind and hinted towards interests he could never pursue.

Such as how soft Sherlock's hair would feel beneath his fingertips. Or how their lips might feel pressed together. And whether or not the detective would ever say he loved him back-and if so, _how_ exactly he would say it.

These thoughts tortured John and warmed him with a niggling curiosity that bit into his core. Firsts upon firsts kept John awake until his fatigue took hold and drew him under. The darkness was welcome but not fulfilling. And once John woke up, he didn't pick up from where he left off the night before. The day was already on, a madman bustling in and out speaking nonsense with a glee entirely unbecoming. Nonetheless, he was relieved by the distraction Sherlock Holmes brought forth and aligned himself with the other man's stride. With a cuppa in each hand, John set down the brunet's mug and turned his sole attention on the detective as he puttered around the flat drawing together clues for their newest case. For now, just for now, the doctor was content.

_**It would all make sense.—** _

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [Desti](Destinedforjohnlock.tumblr.com), a wonderful friend of mine. We were talking of Tom Odell's music when we brought up 'Sense' and how it fits Johnlock so well. I decided to write a little something for her and well... Here it is. 
> 
> Please enjoy and if you like it, go ahead and put something down in the comments or give me a kudos. <3  
> It really helps to know that someone other than myself likes it.
> 
>  **I fucked up**. **I fucked up so bad. This wasn't supposed to post, I hit cancel. It didn't cancel. Shit.**


End file.
